


Wait for Me

by Dashboardjuliet



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dashboardjuliet/pseuds/Dashboardjuliet
Summary: A few things Nahri has noticed while being pregnant.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afsin/Nahri e-Nahid
Kudos: 12





	Wait for Me

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in a mythical post-EoG world in which everything I want comes true and Shannon has shown mercy on me.

Wait For Me

The bump growing around her midsection can be easily hidden, could be covered up by the folds of the fabric of her abaya. It’s not too large, barely there, the curve of it only detectable by the tracing of a hand against her skin, but it’s enough. Her hands are attached to it, and Nahri quickly loses count of just how long she spends in front of the mirror running her hands over the soft expanse of skin. Even now, so early and undeveloped, she can still feel the tiny second heartbeat echoing within her.

She’s taken to wandering around their house naked because of it. Well, not just because of it, but because of the unintended consequences of her little bump (which she has now started to affectionately call  _ ya amar  _ due to the way she knows her stomach will balloon, become big and round and perfect) has caused. Dara, it seems, is just as obsessed as she is with the bump, and is now constantly attached to her in some form. They have always remained close to one another when possible, it just being the nature of their partnership, but since finding out she was pregnant, it has seemingly amplified, their proximity from one another diminishing to non existence. Every which way she turns, Dara is there at her side, hand outstretched to aid her if she needs it. They haven’t informed anyone of it yet, but people are picking up the clues.

Jamshid is the first to place it together because, after Dara, he is the one she sees the most. Dara’s hulking form is normally not one that frequents the infirmary where they have been doing most of their work while the hospital is being devoted to training and smaller surgeries. The minute he becomes a commonplace, which is apparently three days in Jamshid’s eyes, Nahri is cornered when he can get her out from under Dara’s watchful eye, squirreled away in the orange grove for a moment of solitude. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He says as they lean against a tree together, orange peels falling to the grass beneath their feet, having wandered off the pathway to give themselves seemingly true solitude.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You’ll have to be very specific, I’m very busy. Nahid business and all that nonsense.” She shrugs her shoulders at him, fingernails digging into the rind to peel it backwards, exposing the flesh of the orange, allowing her to grab a slice and pop it into her mouth. The citrus flavor bursts onto her tongue, and she says a quick prayer that morning sickness hasn’t kicked in yet. Hopefully never will, if her little  _ amar _ stays as perfectly reasonable as she has been.

“How long were you going to wait before you informed me that my most favorite sibling is having a child!” She’s never heard him screech before, but the way his voice rises gets very close to what she thinks it might sound like. Shame creeps into her for only a moment, and she has the proper response of not making eye contact with him, keeping her gaze aimed at the orange in front of her as she continues to rip the rind off in a circular pattern till there is a curly spring of orange on the ground. 

“I’m your only sibling…”

“Nahri!”

“Fine, fine, you’re going to upset your mustache with all that yelling! Now quiet down, you’ll summon my shadow.” Nahri peeks out for a moment from beneath the canopy of their orange tree, eyes searching for her husband. When his huge frame doesn’t make an appearance, she settles back down against the tree. Plopping the rest of the orange in her mouth, she chews while holding her hand out to him, waiting for him to put his hand in hers. When he does, she places their hands palm down against the small bump and waits. “What’s your guess?”

He’s progressed faster than she would have thought, faster than she had for sure, the innate healing magic of their family coming easily to him. It’s no surprise that it barely takes him a minute to figure it out, place everything by the pace of the heartbeat. She removes her hand, but his stays there, cuddling the curve.

“About twelve weeks? And yet they’ve already got so many people who love them.” His voice is quiet now, near amazement, and it leaves her dazed. She knew there would be reactions to her pregnancy, what it would mean for the greater expanse of things, but she had not prepared herself for this, for the quiet reactions of family that are full of nothing but joy for her, for Dara, for the little life inside of her that knows nothing of the world it will be born into. No expectations of carrying the Nahid line. Just joy. Tears cloud her vision, and she swallows the lump that has grown inside her throat. Never in her life did she think she would have this.

As if sensing her feelings, so attuned to them, her husband’s voice rings through the grove. Both of their heads turn to where he calls from.

“Is my lovely wife still in here with her less lovely brother, or must I go find them both?”

Jamshid does his best to look entirely offended, mouth hanging open, while Nahri covers her mouth to try and silence the peals of laughter that escape from her. It doesn’t work well. She snorts, and she can hear Dara chuckle in response, his voice growing closer as he walks into the grove.

“You’re going to let him insult me like that?” Jamshid says, astonished, turning to her. She simply shrugs.

“I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“She could make me do anything, she’s just being modest.” A hand stretches out towards hers, and from around the bend of a tree, her husband emerges. She takes the offered hand, pulling him in close to her so she can place a kiss on his cheek. He leans into her gently, his spare hand coming down to swipe gently across her stomach. It is his new obsession, her bump. He is constantly touching, patting, whispering, singing to it. She knows her brother catches the movement because when she tilts her head back toward him, his eyebrow is crooked upward and his mustache is sitting at a tilt, hiding his smile.

“I don’t know how I didn’t notice it earlier, even without him lurking about. He’s already smitten with them, isn’t he?”

“My darling brother, you have no idea.”

  
  



End file.
